Clove's Goodbye
by itshardtostealfatkids
Summary: a very short story of clove's death. the part you didn't see on your TV screens...damn capitol...


So, I love Annie and Finnick but they're already so perfect and Katniss and Peeta were done wonderfully. So who does that leave left? That's right.

Cato and Clove.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>At the Feast...<strong>

"Clove!"

_Cato_, I think as his voice echos over the field. I want to run to him, to let him know I'm okay.

But I can't. And I'm not.

"You better run now fire girl," Thresh's deep voice booms. I hear Katniss scramble to her feet and break back into the thick woods that shield whoever is left alive. Thresh moves to the table, picking up his pack with a soft _swish_. A second one follows and my thoughts form slower so it takes a few moments to figure that he has taken District 2's pack as well. To draw Cato into a trap.

Cato's stubborn but strong. I know he can overpower Thresh.

His footsteps draw closer as my breathing slows. Its raspy and low and I can feel it. I'm going to die. And he doesn't have to stay with me. I want him to keep going. I want him to kill Thresh, the sly girl from 5, and those stupid brats from 12. We promised we would stay with one another if the other died (a promise made during a meeting at the knot-tying station in the Training Center) but I'm giving him a pass. He doesn't have to be with me. I want him to win and that doesn't include craddling me as I slip into death.

I remember I had one chance. One perfect moment with my district partner.

We had been out in the woods, awake as we sat in the Career pack we had formed, though the numbers were dwindling much too quickly for my taste. I would've liked it to be one by one, picked off by betrayed alliances. Give the audience a wonderful show. Please those sons-of-bitches in the Capital. But that isn't the point.

We sat around the fire with the tributes from...3, 4, and the boy from 2, I think. We volunteered to take the shift of looking out for the others since District 12 had dropped a trackerjacker nest on all of us. Truth be told, I didn't need to be awake with Cato, but I had heard the females from 3 and 4 talking about how he was too dangerous to keep around for much longer and I was feeling a bit protective.

I don't remember what it is we were talking about...maybe death or going back to 2, but before I knew it, we were so close to one another. Our bodies were touching and I could feel his breath on my cheek. I can't remember what took over me (maybe some of the trackerjacker venom was still coarsing through my veins) but I closed that tiny gap, our lips crashing into one another's. It made me feel the hungriest I've ever felt. Ravished, in fact. This massive stirring in my chest was enough to make me loose it. To make me murder every single one of the contestants that slept at me feet and the rest that skulked around in the woods. It was fantastic. Like some freakishly wonderful unity but also a giant middle-finger to the Capitol.

The next day, the law was announced that we could leave the arena in teams.

It had seemed almost too perfect but we went along with it, breaking away from whoever was left. Together. I can't count the number of kisses that occured after that, on that day a miracle was announced, but I was positive the cameras were trained on the "star-crossed lovers". But it was okay. I liked it that way. To talk with him freely, to kiss him as much as I liked, to snuggle into his arms like we were back in District 2. I decided to trust him whole-heartedly as we slept apart at night but somehow ended up beside one another in the morning.

Suddenly, his knees crash to the ground beside my head and he gently picks up my head, setting it in his lap.

"Clove," he says softly.

I try to say his name back, to show a sign that I'm still here with him but all that escapes my lips is a raspy, two-toned breath. He makes this choking sound and I have no idea what's going on until a drop of water falls onto my cheek. He takes a deep breath and whips it away, calming himself down.

I use what little control I have left to take hold of his hand and squeeze it lightly. He pushes the dark hair from my face, avoiding the massive dent in my skull.

"I'll win," he says, his face just inches from mine. When he says it again, its vengeful. "I...love you, Clove. And I want to win. To get those star-crossed brats from 12." He lets out a light laugh and I can't help but smile, no matter how badly it hurts. He has the dorkiest laugh I've ever heard and he hates it. But right now, it envelopes me like a thick fleece blanket, keeping my warm as death's icy fingers pull me under. I squeeze his hand and I close my eyes, ready to let go. This way is best. In Cato's arms, away from the violent bloodshed, headed for a better place or wherever it is murderous victors go when they die. That big ol' Cornucopia in the sky. But before I die, he leans in, face over mine. His lips bursh over mine and I want to let him know I'll be okay. That if he wins this, it wouldn't have been for nothing.

"I love you, okay?" he whispers. I squeeze his hand with the little engery I have before letting go of his hand.

He stands up, running from my body as I black out and a cannon fires.


End file.
